


Photo Upon Thine Wall

by tigereyes45



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 15:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15367848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigereyes45/pseuds/tigereyes45
Summary: Donald has to accept the changes in life as the boys grow accustomed to living in the mansion. Living in his boat and still clinging to the past maybe it is time he change at least one thing as well. Starting with the photo.





	Photo Upon Thine Wall

The triplets were young when their mother left. So young that Donald felt sure the only reason they could remember what she looked like was due to the single photo he kept of her in their room. It was better there then in his own. If it had stayed with him at the beginning of, well his grief, Donald felt assured that all it would do was send him into a fit of tears every time he would see it. That wouldn’t help him, and it wouldn’t help the boys.

Donald sighs as he sits on the deck of his ship. Now stuck in the pool at Scrooge’s house. The boys were at school, and Scrooge well Donald hadn’t bothered asking where the old duck went off to this morning. Webby was inside the mansion still. Probably helping her grandmother with something or other. Leaving Donald all alone with the peace and quiet on his boat. He hadn’t had quiet in such a long time.

It felt odd. All the lack of noise. Up here at the mansion he couldn’t hear the cars from town, or the planes up in the air. None of them came this far. The only boat he could hear was the creaking of his own broken, battered, precious ship. Every creak, crack, and slow dip of the waves going under it.

Donald opens one eye and looks at the giant, broken front of his bridge. He still had plenty of work to do on it, and Launchpad helping sped it along at times while slowing it down at others. Yet as he was also one of the ignored in the large house Donald felt a camaraderie with the clumsy fool. A bird who’s luck was almost as bad as his own.

Sighing, Donald stands up from his spot against the railing of his main deck. Placing his hands on his lower back, he bends as far behind himself as he can without breaking a bone. When a few successful cracks signal he was done, Donald adjusts his hat, and takes himself down to the bow. Once upon a time it had all been his room. When the boys arrived he adjusted it so that the bow could be split into two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a hallway between the three. The first few years they slept in a crib in his room, Even though he had their room down within three months of beginning the project.

Donald stumbles on every step of stairs on the way down. His frown changing into a small smile as he glimpses the boys’ bedroom door. At first he thought it would be good to have an extra room incase Della ever needed him to take care for the three. When his sister told him she was pregnant he thought there would only be one maybe two children and prepared for such. When there was three he realized how underwhelmed he had imagined it all would be. The moment he saw Huey, Dewey, and Louie hatch Donald was attached.

If only he had known it would be a short four months later that he would lose his sister. Having left the babies with Beakley the three were off on another adventure. It would be the last time the boys ever saw their mother. The last adventure she went on with him. That night Donald left the mansion and took the boys with him to live on his boat. He could still recall the raw anger on Scrooge’s face when he told his uncle that they were leaving. The cold words shared, Scrooge swearing that if he left then he had better not be back ever. Donald was hurt, but he knew Scrooge was too. Leaving family at a time like that was a poor decision. Now Donald could see that as he reaches the bottom of the stairs.

Still it had to be that way. They couldn’t stay in that house. That night Donald rested the triplets in his bed with him. Took the picture of Della, hung it up in the room that would one day be theirs, and went to bed. His feathers holding the boys as tightly to his chest as he could without hurting them. He remembers every detail of that night. All the tears, the cries of hungry duckling. How it felt when they were fed, changed, and snuggled up on his chest. Back when he could fit all three there. Laughing at the memories Donald approaches the wooden door. Even knowing it was empty, he still knocks. Old habits die hard, and new ones could be difficult to start. Not talking about Della was one of those difficult tasks, but soon after Scrooge began erasing everything about her from the town it felt as if it was criminal to talk about his sister. So he never said a word about her to anyone. No one except her sons. They deserved to know who she was. Even if he could only say it in so few of words.

Opening the door, Donald notes how the screws needed oil by how much noise is made. Glancing about it was comforting to see all three of the beds still pushed together on the back end of the room. Stepping in carefully Donald holds on to the door tightly. It felt as if any moment he could fall through the floor and down into an abyss. For the item he wanted, it had that much effect on him. Donald felt as if it almost always would.

Taking a few deep breaths he turns his head slowly. Meeting the eyes of the duck on the wall. One of the few pictures where she had her eyes open. It all hits him again. All the sadness, the misery, his grief, all the memories. Donald squeezes his hand tighter around the door knob. Scrooge would never allow that picture in his house, and the boys still needed it. One simple task. Move the picture. Donalds repeats the phrase in his mind as he slowly.

Pushing through his mental blocks Donald grabs the picture and takes it down. Holding it in his hands it feels light. He moves it around as if that would somehow cause it to change. Suddenly wishing it was a video recording instead of just a picture in his hands. The thought of her moving, talking, just blinking all of it made him wishful. A part of him Mickey always said he admired. Goofy, Jose, and Panchito too if he was remembering correctly. Did Della think the same?

Donald leaves the room. He quietly shuts the door behind him. Glancing around the hall of the bow. “Fighting ghost pirates was so much easier than this.” He admits before removing a paper calendar. He places the picture up in its place. Feeling much lighter Donald smiles warmly before heading back up. Throwing the calendar off to the side once he was on deck again Donald pulls one of his chairs over. Basically jumping into it the sailor looks up at the blue sky.


End file.
